


keep the pain inside the past

by cupcakeb



Series: set that crown on the ground [4]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, background Val/Rebe if you squint a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: They run into each other in Madrid on a gloomy winter day in December, because their friends failed to tell him she was home for Christmas, and no one has any idea that he hasn’t seen her since he was 19 and she had just turned 18, since the day before she left for New York and decided he wasn’t going to be a part of her life anymore.
Relationships: Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich
Series: set that crown on the ground [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753876
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	keep the pain inside the past

**Author's Note:**

> Woke up feeling some type of way about the fact that these two will probably never really get closure... So I wrote this to make myself feel better. (I now feel... worse?)

At 25 years old, he would honestly say, all things considered, he’s a well-adjusted adult. Meaning he has a stable job — shout-out to Carla for that one; nepotism is amazing — he no longer gets mixed up with drugs, and he has somewhat of a social life outside of work. 

Compared to the reckless person he used to be, the kind of emotionally unstable idiot he once was, he thinks he’s doing fine. 

Unfortunately, he hasn’t spoken to anyone in his family in years. Which isn’t actually that unfortunate. There’s really only one person he sometimes finds himself thinking about. 

Lu is still in New York, as far as he knows. He can’t really keep tabs on her much these days, not without alerting their mutual friends (really just Carla) to the fact that they’re not on speaking terms. 

Anyway, as far as he knows, she’s still in New York, now in grad school, and she’s dating the son of some very important ambassador to the UN, or something. It’s literally everything she always wanted, if the way she used to lecture him about why he won’t ever amount to anything in life is anything to go by. Good for her.

The last time he spoke to her was on his 20th birthday, when he’d been drunk enough to call her and she’d been stupid enough to pick up the phone. He still sometimes wants to smash a hole in the wall just thinking about that conversation, remembers hearing her say that it’s probably for the best if he forgets about her and deletes her number. 

He didn’t do either of those things, but forgetting about her was kind of a big ask anyway. 

They run into each other in Madrid on a gloomy winter day in December, because their friends failed to tell him she was home for Christmas, and no one has any idea that he hasn’t seen her since he was 19 and she had just turned 18, since the day before she left for New York and decided he wasn’t going to be a part of her life anymore. 

Really, it would be comical, if he had the emotional maturity to have a sense of humor about it. The look on her face when he walks into Carla’s kitchen to grab a drink is kind of hilarious. 

Lu wouldn’t be Lu if she didn’t keep up appearances. He can practically see the wheels turning in her head, can tell she’s trying to gauge how enthusiastic she’ll have to be about greeting him to make this all seem normal, not fucked up. 

While Lu may still be driven by what other people think of her, he’s never been the type. So he uncaps his beer, nods at her from across the room, and heads back out into the living room to catch up with Ander and Rebeka. 

For the rest of the night, he can feel her eyes on him. Maybe that’s why she told him to forget about her; because she knows she’ll never be able to do it on her own. It would be very _Lu_ of her to make him do all the hard work. 

None of their friends are even remotely clued into what’s going on, of course. Most of them, anyway. Him and Rebeka sort of had a thing for a few months, something almost serious enough to call a relationship, and they still occasionally get together for great sex and good conversation. They’re always a little flirty, and he’s not gonna stay away from her all night just to please Lu, who hasn’t said a word to him. 

Everyone gets a little too drunk. It’s almost Christmas and it’s rare for them to all be in the same city, so of course they use alcohol to gloss over the fact that most of them are barely in touch enough to be considered friends these days. 

Valerio gets tipsy, not drunk. If he let himself get drunk, he’d probably drag Lu away and give her a piece of his mind, and that’s not what adult, responsible, somewhat well-adjusted Valerio does anymore. He doesn’t let the devil tempt him. 

If he had to pinpoint the exact moment Lu realizes she’s gonna have to actually talk to him, it would be when Guzmán drunkenly throws an arm around her and says, loud enough for him to hear across the room, “Congrats on the engagement, by the way,” because Lu isn’t even looking at Guzmán when she replies. She’s staring at Valerio across from her, where Rebeka is telling him a story he stopped listening to the second he heard the word engagement leave Guzmán’s lips. 

He’s a little shell shocked, and figures he can blame the vindictive, petulant way he immediately wants to make sure Lu feels as bad as he does on that. 

Rebeka has been nothing but a great friend to him over the years. Probably more than a friend, if he’s being honest, and she’s the only one in the room who knows anything at all about why he’s no longer speaking to Lu. If he didn’t have commitment issues because the only person he ever really wanted to be with shut him out of her life completely, he’d date her in a heartbeat. Maybe someday.

When he interrupts Rebeka’s story about her wardrobe malfunction at a recent conference she went to for work by running a hand up and down her arm, she gives him a look that says she knows exactly what he’s looking to do here. But again, she’s a great friend, so she leans into him, close enough to whisper in his ear, “You two seriously haven’t learned a thing, have you?” 

Valerio sighs. It’s apparent that he hasn’t, no. He wishes he had a better excuse for it. It’s just different, with Lu. Anyone else he could tell himself to stop playing games with, could probably stay away from if he put in some semblance of effort. But Lu? Nah, never. Even now, even after not having said a word to her for five years and counting, he knows he might fight her on it, but if she wanted him, he’d probably let her have him. 

He doesn’t reply to Rebeka’s snide remark because he knows she doesn’t expect him to. Instead, he plays with the bottom of her skirt and pecks her lips, just briefly. They’re too old to make out in front of all their friends — it would be a little too blatant to sink that low just to mess with Lu. 

Rebeka rolls her eyes at him, but grabs his hand anyway. See? Such a good friend. He has no idea how the hell he got lucky enough to keep her around. 

And it’s honorable, he thinks, how he doesn’t even glance at Lu for the rest of the night, even though he can feel her eyes on him for most of it. 

Rebeka leaves before he does, and he figures he’ll walk her out, just to get a chance to thank her for playing along tonight. 

She groans when he hugs her and calls her a good friend. He really only said it to annoy her. They both know they’re more than friends.

“Call me when you’re in dire need of emotional support,” she jokes, then pokes his chest. “Even if it comes in the form of physical intimacy.” 

He would probably laugh at that a little less if she wasn’t in her final year of clinical psych, if she hadn’t already completely psychoanalyzed every single thing that’s wrong with him over the years. He appreciates that she’s still keeping it real, even if her professional opinion of him must be pretty intense. He’s definitely a psychologists’ dream patient, what with all of his issues. 

“Thanks, doc,” he replies, and she grins at the nickname, then looks off into the distance over his shoulder briefly and kisses him. It’s little more than a peck, but it still makes him want to stop this stupid, inevitable game with Lu and go home with Rebeka instead. 

Before he can pull her closer, she’s pulled away, thrown a quick goodbye over her shoulder and walked off. He’s left standing out on the street in front of Carla’s apartment building, watching her walk away, and nearly has a heart attack when someone taps him on the shoulder from behind. 

He flinches and turns around, startled. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lu,” it’s amusing, maybe, that that’s the first thing he says to her after five years of silence. 

Lu smirks, like she enjoys having the element of surprise on her side. Knowing her, she absolutely planned this ambush. 

“That looked intimate,” she says, and he braces himself for whatever mean thing will follow. He still knows her too well. “I always thought she was sort of a specked down, tackier version of me.” 

It’s a completely baseless claim, and he knows she’s just trying to provoke him into a fight because neither of them want to talk this out like levelheaded adults, but it still pisses him off enough to want to retaliate. 

But no, not tonight. He takes a deep breath, then smiles at her. “Yeah, I went for the sane model,” he says, grinning. “The iPhone has the nicer UI but the Samsung is a lot more user friendly.”

He’s a little proud of himself for that comparison. If she’s offended, she doesn’t let it show. 

"I'm happy for you."

It would maybe be convincing if he didn't know she's a good actress. He knows all her tells. The way she puts just a little more emphasis on happy than on the other words gives her away.

"No, you're not," he argues. 

This really isn’t the best place to have this conversation, and she must know it too. If any of their friends walked outside onto Carla’s balcony right this second, they’d probably be able to hear the entire exchange. 

Lu shrugs, rolls her eyes. At least she’s not denying it. 

“Are you happy for me?” She asks, baiting him, waves her hand in his face. He grabs it, and wishes he didn’t notice her flinch, like she doesn’t remember what his touch feels like. 

This is all supremely fucked up, and Valerio finds himself wishing he had a little more drunken courage to go off of. Something to blame this on tomorrow morning when he wakes up and wishes he could take it all back, maybe. Hopefully it won’t come to that.

The ring is simple, a thin gold band with a beautifully cut diamond in the middle, and he’s sure she picked it out herself. It’s too perfect for her to have been chosen by some random dude she met in college, someone who barely knows her at all, someone Valerio is trying hard not to think about too much in lieu of getting angry enough to scare her. 

“It’s a nice ring,” he says, not letting go of her hand. She could pull away if she wanted to, but she isn’t, so. That’s totally on her, not him. 

He didn’t miss this part of their dynamic — the blame game. The part where he tries and fails to make sure every single glance or touch they exchange can, in theory, be chalked up to being entirely her choice and her fault.  


Lu raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow in response, and for the first time all night, he allows his eyes to linger. Her dress is more boho chic than fancy, further dressed down by the cardigan she’s wearing, and her hair is up in a simple bun. He kind of wants to unravel it for her, just to see how long it is now. Probably long enough to brush the top of her cleavage, and ugh, now that he’s thought it he can’t help but look at that, too. At the way this dress is somehow both conservative and revealing.  
  
She still looks really fucking good.

When he runs his eyes back up to her face, she’s smirking at him like she’s won, like him checking her out means she’s still got the upper hand in all of this. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy,” he finally says, sort of itching to get away from this conversation before they do something they’ll both regret. 

Grinning, she says, “I am,” like she thinks, genuinely, she can charm her way out of this. Like they can just not talk about hurting each other and it will all go away.  


And why not try for a little bit of honesty, for once? He may not get to see her again for another five years after this — he’ll take the risk. If she tries to gloss over things and walks away, he’ll be able to live with that.  
  
He fixes her with a mean smile. “Are you gonna go back to ignoring me after this?”  
  
Lu doesn’t miss a beat, just scoffs as she addresses him, “I didn’t know you cared enough to feel ignored.”  
  
That’s such fucking bullshit. He hates her so, so much. He hates that he has to have this conversation with her here, all of their friends within earshot, hates that he can’t yell at her the way he wants to.  
  
Fuck it, he’ll bite. Leave it to Lu to make him lose his temper in the span of a few minutes. He gets as close to her as he possibly can, looks down at her and watches the defiant look in her eyes falter for a second, the facade crumbling.  
  
Her eyes flick to his lips, and he wills himself to ignore it.  
  
He’s still holding onto her hand. She’s still letting him.  
  
“Oh, you knew."

“I..." She looks startled, and he finds that oddly thrilling. He’s not gonna let her get away with pretending this time. All of the maturing he’s done over the last few years has to be good for something, even if it’s just to finally call Lu out on her bullshit.

"You knew," he says again, not willing to look away. "I always knew it would end anyway, I just didn't know you’d cut me out of your life completely in order to end it.”

“Val.” It's barely a breath of a word and he hates it. She sounds like she’s warning him, begging him not to go there.  
  
But she did this, didn’t she? She’s the one who sauntered over here, sought him out just to settle a score. Like they’re still teenagers, playing a game they never should have played in the first place. She can’t push his buttons and then be surprised when he reacts.  
  
“Fuck this,” he says, serious. He tries hard not to sound aggressive or impulsive, because he knows she’ll latch onto that and try to push him further. “Fuck you, Lu.”  
  
Lu sighs, long and deep. “I don’t know what to say.”  
  
That actually makes him laugh. Fucking hilarious of her to pretend like there aren’t a million things they’ve left unsaid. There are so many things they should have been saying all along.  
  
She doesn’t appreciate the laughter, just puts the hand he isn’t still holding (clinging onto) on his forearm. “Val, please.”  
  
He has no idea what she’s asking for. She probably doesn’t, either. Just hearing her say his name, the stupid fucking nickname he’d always told everyone but her not to use, makes him grip her hand tighter, though.  
  
Leave it to Lu to have the audacity to lean up and kiss him, when he’s literally holding onto her engagement ring clad hand, when they’re both too old to chalk this up to teenage hormones and impulsiveness.  
  
He kisses her back, just for a moment, just for a minute or two, because he forgot what this is like with Lu. Forgot how all-consuming it is, how he literally feels himself lose touch with reality for a moment. Everything else pales in comparison.  
  
But this is stupid, and he’s not that guy anymore. She wanted to move on, and he’s glad she did, because it gave him a chance to do the same. He doesn’t even want her anymore; not like this, maybe not in any capacity at all. Even if his physical reaction to her is the same it’s always been.  
  
“Let’s go back inside,” he says, pulling away from her, brushing her hand off his arm and letting go of the other one.  
  
Lu whines a little at the loss of contact, but he’s not gonna comment on that. He eyes her, calculating. Her red lipstick is kind of a mess, so he runs his thumb over her upper lip to fix it, then wipes at his own mouth.  
  
“Okay?” She glances up at him, looks a little helpless, but nods. Good.  
  
When he leaves at the end of the night, he deletes her contact from his phone. It’s mostly a symbolic gesture, honestly, because he doubts her number is still the same it was five years ago anyway.  
  
She goes back to New York, back to whoever the fuck she’s going back to, and he stays put. The life he’s built for himself here is pretty nice; he’s not gonna let her fuck up all the grueling progress he’s made by simply stopping by.  
  
He tells Rebeka the whole story a few days after Christmas, and when he’s done, she kind of perks up like there’s a silver lining to all of this, like he didn’t just tell her about one of his darkest, most trying moments in years.  
  
They’re at her place, sitting on her balcony, a blanket wrapped around them to fight the December chill.  
  
He really doesn’t see why she’s being so casual about any of this. It’s an occupational hazard, maybe. Maybe she’s seen people who are worse than him, more fucked up. Her level of acceptance is a little terrifying.  
  
“You didn’t let her beat you,” she says, voice even. “You tried to call a truce, and inadvertently won the whole game by doing that.”  
  
He groans and looks anywhere but at her. He’s still not used to having someone to talk to about any of this, although it’s probably the only reason he knew better than to seek Lu out again after that night.  
  
But he was the bigger person. He stepped away. He got enough closure to know not to want any more.  
  
“What are we doing for New Years,” he asks instead, smiles when Rebeka takes his hand in hers.  
  
Rebeka shrugs, then leans over to kiss him and he figures that’s good enough for him. He could probably do this for New Years, and maybe even the rest of the new year altogether.  
  
It's probably time to move on.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


End file.
